Breaking Shadows
by Hagios
Summary: Growing together isn't as easy as you'd think it'd be, and recovery takes time. As Panem struggles to rise up, treachery threatens to tear it back down.
1. Tumult

Life takes you by surprise sometimes.

That why when Peeta first said we should build a house together I didn't really think he was serious.

We'd been sitting together one morning, testing several loaves of Peeta's freshly made bread for breakfast when he first brought it up, and at first I thought I'd heard him wrong.

I laughed then, the image of the two of us hitting our thumbs with hammers and getting wood splinters in our fingernails didn't really seem like something the two of us – or anyone without experience – should be doing.

I remember watching Peeta's face as I laughed, sitting there, perched on a barstool in the kitchen of our Victor's house; watching as his face remained earnest and his eyes stayed genuine. I stopped laughing then, pushing aside my half eaten cheese bun and staring at Peeta almost as if he had two heads.

He couldn't be serious; he couldn't actually think that the two of us could build an entire house together.

But he was.

"How long have you been thinking about this?" I asked him, still wondering if he was really intending to _really_ building a house.

"I've wanted a house with you since the first time I saw you."

His simple, to the point statement caught me off guard, and I wasn't sure how to respond.

"Peeta," I began, still trying to slyly talk him out of it. "We _have_ a house together – _this_ house – we've been here for almost six months now. You can't be serious!"

Peeta shook his head then, and I was even more confused than before.

"You don't get it," Peeta began. "Yeah, we live together, but this is the Victor's Village – every minute we spend in this place, it just reminds me of what we had to go through to get here."

Peeta paused then, running a hand through his short cropped blond hair.

"To me this will never really be _our_ house – this is Snow's house, the one he built so he could keep tabs on us. I don't want to remember him every day I walk through the door. I want a house where I feel free from what used to be – a place that's _all_ our own…"

He trailed off then, and I sat there, completely speechless for a moment, before realizing that I wanted a house too.

"How long have you felt this way?" I asked him.

Peeta shrugged, grabbing a slice of fresh cinnamon bread before covering it with a thin layer of cream cheese, handing it to me as he grabbed another piece and repeated his previous motion. Tossing the bread back on the table I couldn't help but raise my voice, my hands on my hips as I stated my question again.

"How long Peeta?"

Peeta looked up at me then, placing the cheese knife across the plate in front of him. His eyes were wide and blue, and the depth of them always unnerved me – that day was no exception.

"Since the day I moved in." Peeta said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I remember feeling hurt for the briefest second, wondering why Peeta had never told me before. The question in my mind quickly came out of my mouth as I sat across from him.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" I asked, my voice lower and softer than it had been moments ago.

Peeta smiled sadly.

"At first I didn't think it was too important, I thought maybe it was just a passing idea – after all, there was still so much that needed to be done – District 12 was still mostly just a pile of rubble."

He paused a moment, picking up his bread before cross the table to sit beside me.

"But the more I thought about it, the better the idea sounded and the more I wanted it – I know we're not builders or anything, but I want to try."

I didn't say anything at first; I just sat there, thinking over everything he'd said in my mind before I spoke – I wanted to make sure I said the right thing. I picked up the piece of bread I'd tossed aside, taking a bite as I continued to think through what I should say.

Peeta's eyes never left me; they followed my every move, waiting for me to say something – waiting for me to call him crazy.

"Well," I began, choosing my words slowly. "If this is something you really want to do, than we'd better see about getting someone to help us build the thing."

I watched Peeta then, my heart happy as a slow, wide grin stretched his face. His eyes were sparkling, and he laughed then, reaching between us and pulling me to him, spinning me around in his arms as he whooped.

"We're going to have a _house_ Katniss! A _house_!"

I laughed with him; his excitement was contagious and I was secretly thrilled that soon the two of us might really have a place that was completely ours.

When Peeta finally stopped spinning and put me back down on my feet, pulling me closer one last time.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" He whispered softly into my ear, placing a quick kiss on my temple before pulling away.

I looked up at him, grabbing his forearms and nodding, my wide smile no doubt matched his.

"I am, but I just have one more question for you."

Peeta raised his eyebrows, curious, wondering what I might ask.

"What?"

Grinning over at him, I began to gather our dirty dishes from the table, making my way over to the sink as I spoke.

"Where are we going to build this house of ours Peeta Mellark?"

We both laughed then, finishing the morning chores together before heading our separate ways for the day – him to the newly re-built bakery and me to the freedom of the no longer restricted woods.

* * *

><p>The days that followed that morning were bright and busy, filled with baking, hunting and plans. Peeta and I wasted no time, contacting someone to help us with the house plans, and picking a spot to begin construction.<p>

We settled on a spot just on the edge of the Meadow, a rare, flat area were wildflowers grew in a directions and three large boulders sat close together among the grasses. From there, what had once been the Seam was close by – far enough away for seclusion, but close enough that getting to Town wouldn't be a problem.

Months before, when construction on what was left of the district began, the people who'd returned had quickly decided that there would be no more Town and Seam separation, no fences and no class separation, but that what was left would be rebuilt as a whole.

It was an idea that everyone loved.

Though there was still much to do, and much to be rebuilt, I did what I could to contribute, and there was nothing more rewarding than watching my home grow again, watching people return to the barren streets.

In our attempts to reconstruct our district, Peeta and I had met a gray haired man – once from the Town – who'd returned for the purpose of rebuilding.

He was an old friend of Haymitch's; his name was Cass Carter, and he was a carpenter by trade.

In the middle of all the plans, Haymitch did something very un-Haymitch like. He volunteered to help Peeta and I build our house. I joked with him, telling him that he needed something productive to do if he ever wanted to get sober, as he was claimed he did – with the help of Peeta. Haymitch just laughed it off, saying that someone needed to babysit us.

When he'd heard about our plans to build a house for ourselves, he was more than happy to help and in just a few weeks the ground was broken on our home site.

Peeta wanted me to be the groundbreaker, but I wouldn't. It was Peeta who'd brought us there, and without him, I didn't know where I might be.

It was only right that he was the one to do it. Nothing else made sense in my mind.

In the weeks that followed the groundbreaking Peeta, Haymitch, Cass and I worked harder than we had in ages. Construction was no easy task, but at the end of the day our exhaustion brought both Peeta and the dreamless sleep we'd been longing for.

Nightmares still came, but they came less often, spread out over long periods of time. With Peeta beside me in bed at night, and a day's work behind me, sleep came easy and stayed long.

The frame was up on our house, and one evening as we began to wrap up that day's work I thought that maybe, just maybe, Peeta and I would finally have the happy ending that the storybooks always promised.

Life however, is not a story, and happy endings are only in fairytales.

The next morning I woke to an empty bed.

At first I wasn't worried, Peeta did get up early sometimes to make breakfast for the two of us, something he said he enjoyed. I didn't think anything of it until I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen where it appeared that Peeta had indeed been making breakfast.

"Morning." I called out to him, walking towards him to wrap my arms around his middle like I did every day.

I reached out to him, to kiss him on the cheek, when he spun around so violently that I staggered back, confused, worry starting to creep up on me.

"Peeta?" I said, backing away slowly.

It's been almost a month since his last episode, and even then, it had been so brief, so swift that I'd thought they might be behind us for good.

I was wrong.

The wild, dark eyed look was back in Peeta's face.

He took a large, lurching step forward and I stepped quickly out of the way, knowing there was nothing I could do.

I watched helplessly as he clutched at the kitchen table, his entire body shaking and his eyes darting furiously back and forth. A harsh, pained cry ripped through the air as Peeta sunk to his knees, his head in his hand. His fingers clawed through his hair as whatever he saw intensified.

Tears pricked the corner of my eyes; my hands were shaking with my uselessness. I wanted to go to him, to hold him in my arms and let him know everything was going to be alright.

But I couldn't, I could only stand there and watch.

The strangled cries continued, and I sunk down to the floor, my hands over my ears. I didn't know what to do; should I run for Haymitch, stay where I was?

Looking back at Peeta I found him stretched out on the floor, hands gripping his head, limbs thrashing.

I was terrified, I didn't know what to do.

Then, just as suddenly as it'd begun, the thrashing stopped and Peeta grew silent, stilled.

From my place on the floor I inched over to him, pulling his head into my lap, and smoothed back his sweaty blond hair as I muttered soothingly to him. Normally, Peeta would moan following a bad episode, calling out different names and stirring underneath my touch.

This time he did nothing, and remained prone where he lay, still as death, face as white as snow.

Panic and fear took over as my fingers fumbled for a pulse, sliding away a little in relief when I found one, but Peeta remained motionless. Pulling back one of his eyelids I noticed that his eyes had rolled back into his head.

"Peeta?" I said, my voice shaking, fingers still trembling as I waited for a response.

Peeta never moved.

I knew then that something was wrong, and as much as I hated to do it, I left Peeta alone on the kitchen floor as I scrambled to find help, my heart hammering in my throat.

Something was wrong, I knew it deep down, and something this was something rest and quiet wouldn't help.

The Boy with the Bread was fading; I couldn't let that happen.

And that was where the real fight began.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey you! Yes YOU, you're reading this fic - I wouldn't stop reading here if I were you, or you'll miss out on what's to come. You haven't seen anything yet. ;)<strong>

**How was it? Let me know what you think and review! **


	2. Anguish

Sitting on the side of Peeta's bed, my head in my hands, I tried to convince myself that the world wasn't ending.

On my right, Peeta lay still; he hadn't moved at all since yesterday. Rolling my head so that my chin rested on my fists I searched his face, trying to find some sign of life in him other than the steady beep of the monitor beside me. On my left, Haymitch slept soundly, twisted awkwardly in the plastic chair he'd pulled into the room the night before. His raspy snored mingled in the air with the sharp beep of the monitor, but other than that the room was silent.

I'd been sitting beside Peeta all night long, but sleep had never come, instead I'd spent the night memorizing every line of Peeta's face. I knew every blue vein in his motionless eyelids, the way his lashed spread out across his cheeks, the straight line that made his nose. I knew every scar and remembered what he'd had to go through to earn them.

I looked down and noticed his hand was still in mine; me, stroking his fingers with my thumb, running it over the multi colored skin – some places pale and rough from life and time, others pink and soft from new growth. His skin told the story of his short but troubled existence; the scars screamed their place in his life.

Fresh tears bit at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back, determined not to cry.

I never cried anymore, not in daylight at least.

During the day I was the Mockingjay who'd brought down the Capitol, the girl who pushed aside her fears to do what she had to.

At night, when all lights went out, I was Katniss, the girl who'd lost almost everything.

When the moon came out I cried, and when dreams came they reminded me again and again of what I'd lost. At night I'd sob, and when I'd wake, wrapped in Peeta's arms, everything would fade – it never really went away, but the pain was less, I could deal with it then.

Turning my eyes from Peeta's pale face I lowered my head, gripping handfuls of my short hair in my fists, clenching them tight as I tried to push down the emotion crawling up my throat.

I tried to forget what the doctor told us, tried to forget that something was seriously wrong.

Peeta could die.

We'd waited for hours in the small, newly built hospital of District for hours before we heard anything.

I'd been sitting on the floor, my back against the cold, smooth wall behind me, staring at Haymitch as he paced nervously back and forth. The place smelled like antiseptic and bleach, making me woozy and even more irritable than I already felt.

That's probably why I snapped at Haymitch like I did.

"Just stop that would you!" I hissed at him, my voice hoarse with repressed emotion. "I can't take your pacing anymore!"

He stopped then, no sympathy in his face, just annoyance and I noticed the silver flask hidden not so discretely inside his coat.

So much for going sober.

"You stop," he sputtered angrily. "Stop convincing you're the only one who cares sweetheart – your feeling sorry for yourself is making _me_ crazy! You're not the only one who's worried about Peeta."

I glared icily at him, but he just ignored me, pulling out his flask and taking a quick swig as he started pacing again.

"You're not supposed to have that stuff in here you know." I said coldly.

Haymitch looked at the flask in his hand carelessly before tossing it back in his coat pocket.

"It's not like you're going to rat me out kid." He replied, still pacing.

Raising my eyebrows I narrowed my eyes in his direction.

"I might." I said, shrugging my shoulders.

Haymitch laughed then, irritating me even more. First he'd called me "kid", now he was mocking me.

Perfect.

"You wouldn't." He said simply, wiping his hand across his mouth as he did.

Despite my irritation, I couldn't bring myself to counter him – we both knew I wouldn't tell – what was the point.

Running my fingers through my hair, I looked over at the door to the Examination Room for the hundredth time that hour.

Peeta had disappeared through that door unresponsive hours before, and still, so one had come for us.

I couldn't take the waiting anymore, it would be night soon, and I could get through the night without him.

Just as I turned my head away, a single, blue clad doctor made his way through the doors, heading right towards us.

Haymitch stopped pacing, and I got shakily to my feet, my muscles screaming protest.

Both fear and anticipation crowed my stomach, both fighting for dominance inside of me; the fear was strong, but the anticipation was winning out this time, I'd been waiting long enough.

"Peeta?" I croaked out, my hands clenched at my sides.

The doctors face was expressionless, I couldn't read him, I had no idea what he might say.

"Would you both take a seat?" The man asked, gesturing to two vacant chairs across the hall.

Haymitch moved to sit but I stood, rooted to the ground.

"No," I said. "I don't need to sit, just tell me what's wrong with Peeta."

Haymitch shook his head and the doctor nodded politely.

"Alright then," the man said quickly. "I'll get right to the point."

"Because of Peeta's time as a prisoner in the Capitol, you both are obviously aware of the extensive torture he endured there, correct?"

Haymitch and I both nodded and the doctor continued.

"Hijacking alone is very difficult to treat, it attacks the brain in ways we are still struggling to understand and the level of distress is puts on the brain itself can easily become damaging to an individual's health. When the mind is hijacked, it tricks the brain into rewiring memory, and when, over a long period of time, this portion of the brain can become damaged."

Beside me, I felt Haymitch reach for his flask before thinking better of it, running a hand over his face to mask his motion.

"So you're saying that Peeta's _brain damaged_?" Haymitch sputtered. "How can that be true, he's been fine – he was doing better even!"

"I'm not saying he wasn't," the doctor continued. "I'm just saying that the damage had been done; over time – in the absence of his visions – it's very plausible that Peeta could have improved. But like I said, the damage has been done, that part of his brain won't just fix itself, and if his visions intensify, the part of his brain that stores his long term memory could be more than just altered; it's already been damaged, but it could get worse."

I just listened, my mind blank, trying to process what the doctor was telling me, none of this was making sense and even though I'd grown up as the daughter of an apothecary, none of what came of out the man's mouth was registering in my head.

"What do you mean it could get worse?" I asked then, my voice sounding timid and small.

"Peeta's visions not only send his temporal lope into distress, but they weaken the brain itself as well. Although the memory portion of his brain is the most extensively damaged area, the intensity of his visions puts his entire brain into massive overdrive; over time this has caused swelling in his head that won't cure itself – he needs treatment – and I'm sorry to say we can't provide the kind of care he needs here in 12."

His last statement hit me in the chest and I fought to swallow around the lump in my throat.

"What do you mean you can't treat him here?" Haymitch hissed.

The doctor held his hands up in front of him defensively.

"We're a small hospital, we've only just got started – we do what we can but there's only so much we can do here."

"What happens if he gets worse, if we can't get treatment?" I asked then.

The doctor folded his arms across his chest, eyes darting from the floor and then back up.

"If the swelling isn't controlled, if he continues to have hijack visions… he could go downhill fast, he might not make it."

I shook my head, refusing to believe it.

"There's got to be some place we can take him nearby – there is isn't there?"

The doctor shook his head.

"Nowhere in the Districts; other than small medical practices there were no hospitals until after the fall of the Capitol – none of them are properly equipped with what you'd need yet – it could take years."

I could feel my knees going weak, feel my lips quivering as I grabbed hold of Haymitch's arm – and for once, instead of chastising me, he pulled me close, his jaw set hard, lips in a straight, firm line.

This might be it.

This might be the end of the Boy with the Bread.

"There must be _something_." I rasped, I was dangerously close to tears.

"He's got a chance," the doctor began, and instantly I hoped. "There's a hospital in the Capitol, one that wasn't destroyed in the war – he could be treated there, for the swelling, maybe even the visions – that's what really bothers me. He could recover from the damage, but as long as his visions remain regularly intense, it could undo everything – like it did today."

Beside me, Haymitch was listened closely, but all I heard was the Capitol.

Months ago, when Peeta had first returned home we'd mutually decided never again to set foot in that place – there were too many memories – it could undo everything we'd worked for.

"It's the only way?" I asked and the doctor nodded.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I wish I could be more helpful, but hijacking, there's still so much we don't know about it. It's difficult."

Haymitch thanked the doctor before he left, heading back from where he'd come, never looking back at us.

A nurse had found the two of us then, leading us out of the waiting room, taking us to Peeta's beside, where we'd stayed the whole night long.

Looking at Peeta's still, pale face, I realized then, as Haymitch snored behind me, that I was crying. Silent tears slid down my cheeks, and I swiped at them angrily, squeezing Peeta's hand tighter in my own.

"You don't die on me, understand?" I sobbed at him, even though I knew he couldn't hear me.

"Don't you leave me alone – I need you okay… just wake up… please."

Peeta never stirred and I sobbed harder, muffling the cries in the stiff hospital blanket.

"You said you'd stay with me," I whispered. "You said you'd _always_ be there…"

Burying my head in the simple hospital bed I cried on, my shoulders heaving. I couldn't think of anything else, consumed in misery.

Peeta was the last part of my world that I'd managed to hold onto, he was keeping me whole, keeping me sane and I honestly believed that if I lost him, I might not survive it.

I felt a hand on my head then and tensed, I didn't want Haymitch's comfort – I just wanted to be alone.

"Just go away." I said miserably, my head still buried.

But the hand remained over my head, brushing at my hair.

I realized then that that was a very un-Haymitch like gesture when a voice I hadn't been expecting to hear broke its silence.

"But I promised you I wouldn't."

I sat up then, a little too quickly and my vision blurred, both from tears and from dizzy joy.

His face was still pale, and the tubes in his nose made him look like someone else, but he was still Peeta.

And his eyes were open.

* * *

><p><strong>Another chapter completed. How did you like it? Just a forwarning, this story may be long, so I hope you're all along for the ride. Thanks to those who reviewed and I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please keep reviewing!<strong>


	3. Succor

Peeta's deep breathing was the antidote for my fears.

I was sitting up on the bed, Peeta's weary head in my lap as I fingered through his thick blond hair. Beneath me, his eyes fluttered, opening and closing every few minutes to make sure I was still there – that I was still real.

His attack had been every bit as horrible for him as it had been for me.

Haymitch had gone an hour before, to let Cass know that Peeta was awake and pick up some of his things, leaving Peeta and I alone.

I never left his side once, not since the day before and even though my muscles were screaming with fatigue and exhaustion was creeping up on me, I refused to sleep. At first when Peeta had woken up I'd been so overwhelmed with emotion that I hadn't even noticed how tired I really was, but after Peeta had dozed off again – then with his head in my lap – the full force of my exhaustion hit me like a ton of bricks.

In between lapses of sleep, Peeta would rasp harshly for me to get some rest, even patting the bed beside him, gesturing for me to join him.

But I couldn't, because I needed to watch over him, and because I was afraid of what I might see if I did.

In my dreams, Peeta might die right in front of me on the kitchen floor with me rooted to the ground beside him, unable to move – completely helpless.

I know I've seen worse things in my dreams before, nightmares that are too horrible to remember and too vivid to describe, but the end result is always the same: Peeta is dead and I am left alone.

Pushing the memories from my mind, I think back, right after Peeta first woke up. I remember telling him about his condition, Haymitch filling in when needed, and watching his face as he took in the news. He never flinched once, and if he was scared, or if it surprised him, he didn't show it. When I told him about the possible treatment however, and about the Capitol, it was then that I saw his face change.

His lips pursed tightly, his grip on my hand tightened just enough for me to notice and his eyes never left mine.

The change in him wasn't what surprised me however, but it was what I read in his eyes, and I knew he wasn't worried about himself.

He was worried, like always, about me.

Always me.

I almost wanted to slug him; there he was, lying in a hospital bed – maybe dying – and he had the nerve to be worried about _me_.

I thought back to all the time we'd spent together, in and out of the arena, and his concerns had always been for me and me alone and while most girls might find that appealing, I wished that just once he'd think of himself instead.

Two years before it might have bothered me even more, but I knew him too well – I knew he wasn't perfect.

When I told him about the Capitol Peeta had told me not to go. He told me to stay behind to keep an eye on our house – but I knew what he really meant, he didn't want me to go, because he knew how many of my nightmares took place in the Capitol.

And the worst part was, deep down, part of me wanted to let him go alone.

When I thought of the all we'd suffered through there, all I'd lost. When I pictured the ruins of the Capitol Square in my mind all I could think of was Prim and her dying, bursting into flames like the "Girl on Fire" _I_ was supposed to be.

It was selfish and horrible, but the idea of going back to the Capitol turned my insides to liquid.

But as hesitant as I was to go back, staying behind would be even worse.

Staying behind meant possibly losing Peeta all over again, and although I'd sworn not to return to the Capitol, I'd also sworn to stay by Peeta's side forever. The latter was only an unspoken promise, one I'd whispered to myself when no one else was around, but I was determined to keep it. Peeta and I were still damaged, still recovering all different kinds of scars – physically, mentally, and emotionally – and we would face whatever came together.

Haymitch slipped through the side door then, glancing at Peeta, resting in my lap, before looking at me and frowning.

"You look awful." He said plainly.

I rolled my eyes at him, running my fingers through Peeta's hair again as I turned my face away from my mentor turned friend.

"You don't look so hot yourself." I said, my eyes towards the room's only window, lightly shaded by sheer curtains.

Haymitch snorted, dropping a worn canvas bag on a chair in the corner.

"I've looked worse." He said, crossing the room and collapsing in the same plastic chair he'd vacated that morning.

I turned my gaze back to Peeta's still face in my lap, wishing for a moment that fate would just allow us to move on – we'd been through enough.

"You need some sleep Katniss." Haymitch said then, and once again, I ignored him.

When I didn't respond, he stood, huffing over to the side of the bed, his body language demanding that I at least look at him.

"You're not going to help him by exhausting yourself, and if you think that dulling your mind is going to make things easier than I suggest you re-think that strategy before you end up like _me_."

I looked up at him then, I hadn't been expecting for him to say that.

"You don't know what you're talking about Haymitch," I whispered, hissing between my teeth. "You don't understand."

Haymitch laughed sourly.

"Oh, I understand alright – I _know_ you sweetheart, I _know_ what you're thinking."

Frowning up at him I lowered my voice.

"Just what do you _know_ Haymitch? How to let tributes die, how to drink yourself into nothing, how to lose Peeta to the Capitol in the first place?"

The words burned on my lips, and the second I'd finished, I wished I'd never said anything. I was suddenly grateful that Peeta could hear the hateful things I was saying as my cheeks burned with shame.

Haymitch didn't say anything, he didn't move; he just stared at me, his eyes full of disappointment, and even though he tried hard to mask it, I could read the faint traces of hurt in his face.

I never got a chance to apologize though, just seconds later, Peeta stirred in my lap, his eyes fluttering open.

Haymitch shuffled his feet, not knowing how to react and moved a few steps backwards as I leaned closer to Peeta, smoothing back his hair form across forehead, forcing myself to smile at him while the guilt of what I'd just said to Haymitch was still fresh in my mind.

"How are you feeling?" I said softly as Peeta's eyes focused slowly on my face.

He stirred then, his shoulders shifting in my lap, his mouth moving in reply.

"A little less like a vegetable." He said, moaning slightly as he struggled to push himself into a sitting position.

I tried to laugh, tried to feign some normalcy in my voice as I followed Haymitch out of the corner of my eye.

Peeta, sensing my distraction, looked over at Haymitch, confusion on his face.

"What's going on?" He asked, his eyes flitting between the two of us.

I didn't say anything; I wasn't sure what to say. Haymitch spoke up however, freeing me from any uncomfortable obligation to share.

"It's nothing," he said to Peeta. "Just a little disagreement between concerned friends."

Peeta's eyes were doubtful but he didn't question us, settling weakly back against the bed, shifting out of my arms so he could look at me.

His hand reached up to trace me cheek, and his eyes were suddenly concerned.

"Have you slept Katniss?"

I shrugged, not wanting to answer that question either, preparing myself for him to chastise me and tell me to sleep.

It didn't come, he just shook his head as he took my hand in his.

Haymitch shifted uncomfortable on the balls of his feet, glancing between the two of us before speaking.

"I'd better be heading back out now – just came to see how you were doing," he said to Peeta. "I brought you both some things."

He gestured over towards the canvas bag he'd dropped before, nodding to both of us and telling Peeta to get well before heading back out through the door and into the hall.

After he'd gone, I eased myself up off the bed, crossing the room to grab the bag Haymitch had left before returned to Peeta's side.

"What's in it?" Peeta asked, refereeing to the bag and I unbuckled the clasp.

"We'll see I guess." I said, tugging the bag open and peering in to see the contents.

A change of clothes for me, Peeta's art book and pencils and a loaf of day old tomato basil bread from the house.

I chuckled, remembering my complaint to Haymitch that the hospital's food was barely edible, pulling out both the book and the bread as I did.

Peeta smiled as well and the guilt dug at me a little deeper as I handed the book to Peeta, thinking of Haymitch.

"I should've known he would bring these by." Peeta said, shaking his head, still grinning as he opened the book and began to finger through the worn pages.

From where I sat the pictures began to flash by. Cinna holding a bolt of cloth; Effie, smiling politely with a clipboard in her hand; Posy, her cheeks round and her eyes bright as she held Hazelle's hand; Peeta's brothers Flax and Rye, the younger grinning mischievously while the older looked on with mirth.

Peeta stopped at that page, his fingers traced their faces, his eyes cloudy.

I wondered then about the two of them, both gone forever in the ashes of 12 and I got a glimpse at what Peeta had lost. We didn't talk much about Peeta's family, but I remembered bits and pieces. How Rye loved to tease and wrestle, how Flax was protective, watching over both his brothers – and especially Peeta – how he'd been planning to get married after the Quell.

My heart hurt for Peeta then, and I swallowed harshly around the lump growing in my throat.

Peeta sniffed suddenly, running a hand under his nose as he quickly turned the page.

I stopped looking at the pictures he brushed briefly through, my eyes on his face, watching as his jaw moved back and forth to conceal his pain.

I decided then would be as good a moment as any to let him know of what I'd decided.

"I'm going with you Peeta." I said, watching for his reaction.

He looked up slowly, his hands still resting over the pages of the book in his lap, his eyes searching mine.

"Katniss," he said. "You can't…"

I shook my head at him firmly, my hand over his.

"I will Peeta Mellark – you know by now that you can't tell me what to do."

I tried to smile then, tried to laugh, but I couldn't and instead I started crying all over again, big fat tears dripping onto the smooth pages below.

Peeta took no notice that I was ruining his book, just brushed away at my tears.

"I know." He said. "I know I can't."

Both our voices were hoarse with emotion and I desperately tried to blink back tears.

"I have to go with you Peeta…"

My voice trailed off, and I almost couldn't go on.

"I-I love you." I said, tears still dripping down my cheeks – I probably looked like a mess.

In all the months since we'd been back together in District 12, I'd never once been able to bring myself to say it. We'd been through so much, Peeta and I were still trying to pick up the pieces, trying to make sense of things – I'd felt it for a long time, I'd been sure of it, but I'd never spoken it out loud until then.

Still looking over at Peeta, I saw tears in his eye, and he looked away sharply.

I wondered if somehow I'd said the wrong thing then.

"Peeta?" I asked. "Peeta, what's wrong?"

Peeta shook his head.

"Nothing, I've just been waiting so long to hear that; I just – I never wanted it to be like this."

"Like what?" I said, my brow furrowing.

"I'm dying." He said plainly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"No!" I said sharply, gripping his hand tighter in mine. "No you're _not_ dying!"

Peeta didn't seem convinced.

"You're _not_!" I said forcefully. "Remember that time in the creek – you were covered in mud, you thought you were dying then too? I took care of you, we made it together! We'll make it again – we'll be even stronger – I love you this time, I really do and we'll _make it_!"

Peeta took my face into his hands, bringing it to his lips and placing a soft kiss on my forehead.

"I love you too," he said shakily. "I always have, and I always will."

We held each other then, my laying myself across the bed at Peeta's side, my tears subsiding, clinging to him with all my strength.

We were going to the Capitol, and we'd be alright somehow.

And there, wrapped in Peeta's arms, I slept for the first time in days.

* * *

><p><strong>Wow guys, I'm so thankful for all the alerts and favorites - just one thing though - I really wish those of you who've been reading (all of you) would take just a moment to review and tell me just what it is about my story that you like - or even don't like. It only takes a second and those of you that write yourself know just how good it is to get feedback! Hope you like this new chapter!<strong>


	4. Atone

When I woke up it was dark.

Although I'd obviously slept the day away, my eyes felt heavy and it took all my energy to pry them open. My body was stiff and sore; every limb felt like lead and my muscles seemed to be laced with burning acid.

Every movement was a struggle, but hearing the sound of Peeta's deep and even breathing beside me I did my best not to wake him. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed I stretched me toes to the floor, wincing at the sharp cold against my bare feet.

The eerie silence in the halls beyond the walls spooked me; there was nothing, not even the footfalls of passing individuals.

Running a hand through my short and tangled mat of hair, I stood slowly, testing out my body as I made me way to the door.

It was only normal, I told myself, explaining away the silence in my mind.

The hospital in 12 had only been open for a few short months. They were considerably short staffed, and even though more people were returning to the tiny, rebuilt district ever month there couldn't possibly be enough inhabitants, much less injured or sick, to fill the clinic's empty rooms.

And that was obviously a blessing.

The quiet was only natural, but still, I couldn't help but feel slightly unnerved.

Too often, terrible things came after quiet.

Turning my head over my shoulder, I looked back at Peeta, sleeping soundly – some color returning to his face – and decided it would be alright to leave him for just a minute.

It would be good to stretch my legs.

Stepping into the hall, I quietly closed the door behind me taking in a deep breath and hoping for freshness, but getting more of the same.

Antiseptic and bleach.

I couldn't wait to be out of the hospital.

The building was small and the halls were few, but I made my way through them stealthily, padding silently up and down like a ghost.

Taking in the stillness I found myself suddenly thinking of my mother.

Somewhere, far away in District 4, she might be in a hospital just like this one; tending to patients and speaking comforting words to those who were hurting. I'd talked with her once since the Rebellion ended, over the phone. I knew that she was safe, and that she was trying to start over. That's she still grieved for Prim. I knew my mother lived with Annie, watching over her, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy.

She took care of Annie now, and Annie's baby son – not me. I remembered late night stories about "little birds named Katniss" that I'd shared with my mother, and her smooth hands as she fastened the buttons of my red plaid school dress.

"_You trust me Katniss…"_

I remembered her voice, just barely. It'd been so long since I'd heard it.

"_Where's my brave Katniss… that girl's not afraid of anything…" _

I shut my eyes tight, my chest clenching around the pain as I remembered her, how I'd loved her once.

I thought of Prim, how close she and my mother had been.

I wondered if secretly my mother hated me for my own hand in Prim's death.

If she could ever forgive me.

A raspy snore from the shadows brought me out of my thoughts and I stopped where I was in the hall, frozen.

I knew that snore.

"Haymitch?" I whispered, creeping closer to the sleeping, bear like figure hunched over in a chair.

He snorted, jerking up suddenly, startled.

"That you sweetheart?" His voice was thick and garbled – I could tell he'd been drinking.

"Haymitch, what are you doing here?"

He didn't reply at first, stretching his tired body as he looked over at me through the poor light of the hallway.

"I'm… watching over you two love birds." He said, slurring his words. "Making sure you keep it clean in there."

My eyeroll was lost to him as he chuckled at his own joke.

"Peeta's not well, don't even joke about that." I said, my voice ringing with slight annoyance. "Why are you here?"

Haymitch shrugged then, slumping back down in to the chair, wiping a hand under his nose.

"I needed some rest, and the liquor didn't put me out tonight."

I didn't say anything, not even sure what Haymitch was trying to say.

"I sleep better when I know you two knuckleheads are okay…"

His voice trailed off then in incoherent slurs, and I stood where I was, rooted to the ground with surprise.

Part of me was touched as I saw Haymitch just a little differently, making me momentarily forgive him of all of his many faults.

Another part of me just wished I had a tape recorder, Haymitch would deny every word in the morning.

"I'm sorry." I said then, almost thankful in a way that he wouldn't remember any of this.

"I was wrong, I was wrong for treating you the way I did."

Haymitch sputtered, dismissing my apology with his hands and I caught the strong sent of alcohol on his breath.

"Forget about it sweetheart, we all know I'm always right, let's just leave it at that."

I shook my head at him, completely confused by my feelings of affection for that somewhat ridiculously intoxicated man.

"Get some rest Haymitch," I said, turned back towards Peeta's room. "Sleep it off."

Almost immediately, for once, Haymitch obeyed my orders, falling back into the sweet oblivion of sleep.

* * *

><p>Morning came too quickly, trouble in its wake.<p>

"What do you mean I can't go with Peeta?" I belted out, rage coursing through me voice.

The Doctor from the Capitol, the one who would take care of Peeta, had arrived in 12 just hours before and during preparations to leave the following day, I'd found out that it was not intended to make the trip with Peeta.

The Doctor, a young, thin man with pasty skin and mousy brown hair, held up his hands in defense.

"I'm just following orders Miss Everdeen – your sentence clearly states that you are not to return to the Capitol until further notice."

The memory of my sentencing invades my consciousness.

I'd never given it a day's thought, especially after Peeta and I had decided ourselves never to return there.

But plans had changed, and to me, the Capitol could be death itself, and I was determined to follow Peeta even there.

"You don't understand," I whispered fiercely, glancing back in the direction of Peeta's room, where I'd left him moments before. "I _need_ to be with him – we need to be with each other!"

The doctor shook his head sadly.

"Unfortunately Miss there's nothing I can do, without permission from higher authorities I can't allow you to accompany Mr. Mellark back to the Capitol."

Desperation was seeping into my chest, making it almost impossible to breath. My hands clenched tightly to my sides, my eyes wild, I thought frantically for a way out – any way out.

"Please sir, please – "

The doctor stopped me, holding up a hand in my direction.

"I'm sorry, I really am, but there's simply nothing I can do. Mr. Mellark will return to the Capitol for treatment, you will remain behind as your sentence requires. It's just that simple."

He turned then, leaving me where I stood before I could open my mouth again to speak. I stood there in stunned silence, I'd never considered the possibility that I wouldn't be _allowed_ to return to the Capitol. Sinking into a hard plastic chair I pounded my clenched fists together, my eyes darting around the room.

I wanted Haymitch. Haymitch would fix it; he'd make them understand that I needed to go with Peeta. They'd understand then.

I didn't think any further, rushing to the hall where I'd left Haymitch the night before, sleeping off his liquor. Sprinting through the halls, I reached the place in record time.

Haymitch was gone.

Deep down inside, I knew he couldn't have gone far, but on the surface I panicked, thinking that if I couldn't find him I'd lose Peeta.

Again.

It was irrational, it was completely insensible, but in my damaged, warbled mind it made sense.

If I could just get Haymitch, he could fix it.

I ran to the first place I thought he might be, right back from where I'd come.

As I neared Peeta's room, the clearly hung over and gravelly voice of my mentor confirmed my suspicions that Haymitch had gone to see him.

Bursting through the door, I didn't even stop to wonder if Peeta knew about my sentencing, how it would affect us, or if anyone had told him. I was beyond thinking.

"Haymitch!" I called out, going straight to where he sat perched on the end of Peeta's bed.

"Good morning to you too sweetheart." He grumbled, rubbing at his aching head.

"Have you heard," I began desperately. "They're not allowing me back into the Capitol!"

Peeta's head immediately turned in my direction, his eyebrows raised, his face still pale.

"What do you mean they won't allow it Katniss?" Peeta said. "Why?"

I didn't need to answer him, Haymitch did it for me.

"Her sentencing boy," he said to Peeta quickly, before turning his attention to me. "How could you forget about it?"

I ignored the scoff in his tone; I should've known our reconciliation – paired with intoxication – wouldn't last long.

"It's not something I've really given to much thought to you know, until yesterday I was planning never to go back to the Capitol again! How do you expect me to think back and readily recall the sentence of a trail I don't even _remember_!"

Haymitch rolled his eyes, and Peeta spoke up.

"Is there anything we can do Haymitch," he said, his voice considerably lower than either Haymitch's or my own.

Haymitch shook his head.

"I really don't know – I'm just babysitting you remember – that's all I was supposed to be doing back in 12, I haven't got any strings left to pull."

His words sent rocks of hopelessness back into my stomach, and I could feel my hands, now unclenched, shaking slightly at my sides.

Silence stretch between the three of us for a moment, then broken by Peeta's reassuring voice.

"Maybe it's better this way Katniss, maybe we shouldn't fight it…"

"No!" I said, almost surprised by the intensity of my own voice.

"I lost you once before to the Capitol Peeta – I'm not going to lose you again! I'm going with you, I don't care what they say!"

No one said anything for a moment, Peeta just started at me – I couldn't tell what he was thinking – and Haymitch sat where he was, stroking his chin with his thumb and forefinger.

"Well," Haymitch began slowly. "If that's what you want Mockingjay, I suggest we make ourselves a plan."

And just like that, we did.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry this chapter is short, and took longer than most, but unfortuantely, writing is only my second life. Read with a watchful eye, this story is going to cover alot of ground, I'm only just getting started! Hope you've enjoyed it!<strong>

**Please Review!**


	5. Rapture

It was my turn to pace now.

And pace I did, wringing my hands nervously, listening to Haymitch as he talked in hushed tones over the phone to Dr. Aurelius. I wondered what they could possibly be saying.

I tried to push aside my impatience, remembering that without Dr. Aurelius' cooperation Peeta would be going to the Capitol without me, and I would be staying behind in 12.

Alone.

We'd planned it all out; Dr. Aurelius would appeal to President Paylor for a brief relieve of my sentence – for just as long as Peeta needed treatment. I would be allowed to accompany him; in fact, my very presence in the Capitol would be kept a secret. No one would be the wiser.

I hadn't been able to think of anything else; the thought of Peeta alone in the Capitol, and me alone in 12 sent a vicious round of chills shooting up my spine. Behind the closed door, I heard Haymitch hang up the phone and I immediately stopped pacing, staring anxiously, waiting for him to appear.

When he did, his expression was stone; he was looking in my direction, I couldn't read his face. Walking stiffly into the room, he eyed me, his stance somewhat nervous as he leaned up against a chair, his arms crossed over his chest.

"You're not going to like it sweetheart."

I gulped audibly, flexing and un-flexing my fingers at my sides.

"He won't do it?" I asked.

Haymitch shook his head.

"Oh, he'll do it alright, in fact, he going to try and get in touch with Paylor today, but this won't happen overnight girl - these things take time, and Peeta's leaving for the Capitol in the morning."

I let his words sink in.

Even if Paylor made her decision that very day, Peeta would still be going on without me.

"How long will it take?" I asked, my voice quivering slightly, and I coughed in an attempt to hide my weakness.

"From what I understand, there's a lot that needs to be done – Paylor needs to agree, she needs to file the appeal… it could take weeks, maybe even months."

Anger shot through my body, heat rising in my cheeks.

"But Peeta… we don't have that much time!" I shouted.

Haymitch held his hands up in defense, warding off my anger.

"I know sweetheart, I know," Haymitch began. "Think on the bright side, Paylor knows you; she knows you're no public threat, she knows what happened with Coin. If there's anyone on your side it's her."

I sat down heavily, feeling suddenly weak, like my legs wouldn't support me anymore.

So quickly everything had changed.

Just a few days ago I'd been sitting in the kitchen with Peeta, laughing, talking about new bread recipes and what color we might paint out house when it was finished. That house; frame and foundation, sitting unfinished in the Meadow, being drenched by the rains of spring – would it ever be finished now? I knew already, that if anything happened to Peeta I would never go back there, never set foot in that Meadow again.

I tried to tell myself not to think like that; Dr. Aurelius had told Haymitch that Peeta's condition wasn't all that serious as the doctors in 12 were making it seem.

"He said Peeta should be right as rain in a month, maybe two – he was doing fine before, his episode was probably just brought on my stress or exhaustion or something like that. He'll be fine."

He'll be fine.

I kept telling myself that over and over, but somehow I just couldn't shake the feeling that something more serious was hiding beneath the surface, and that despite all of Dr. Aurelius' reassuring words Peeta wouldn't be fine.

Maybe it was all of the trauma they'd experienced, all the death that made me feel constantly on guard and never safe. Haymitch had told me to look on the bright side. What a funny phrase coming from Haymitch of all people; he knew as well as I that there was almost never a bright side to cling to.

"Isn't there anything we can do, couldn't we ask to postpone Peeta's departure or something?"

Haymitch crossed the room to lean against the wall beside me, his arms still folded over his chest. For a second, I even saw a brief hint of sympathy in his eyes.

"You know we can't do that, the sooner Peeta is in the Capitol, the sooner he can come home."

I sighed, my shoulders slumping in defeat.

I knew he was right, and that fact alone just made me more upset. Bending over in my chair, I let my face rest in my hands, grinding my palms into my tired eyes, wishing I could wake up from this never ending dream.

"I don't know what to do anymore Haymitch."

I almost winced at the sound of my voice, so weak and pitiful; no one who could see me now could possibly assume I'd once been the face of a Rebellion. It was almost laughable. I didn't speak again until I'd steadied my voice.

"I want to do what's best for him, but… without him, I'm just a mess."

Haymitch didn't need to think long in reply to my statement.

"If you love him like I think you do sweetheart, you won't need to think too long about what to do."

Looking up at Haymitch through my swollen red eyes I had a strange thought. I thought of my father, so many years gone, and I realized, if he was still here, he would have said the exact same thing. It almost made me want to cry all over again.

"I know," I said. "I need to send him ahead… it, it'll be better for him."

Haymitch sadly, so faint that I hardly noticed, placing his rough and weathered hand on my shoulder.

"You'll be alright girl, I don't think this here is it."

Giving me a few light slaps on the back, Haymitch straightened, stretching his shoulders before heading out of the room, muttering something incoherent, pondering the whereabouts of his flask.

* * *

><p>Time flew by quickly as I lay beside Peeta, my arms around his middle as he dozed.<p>

How was it that time always stood still in the moments of pain and hardship, but in the moments of peace flew by like an arrow shot from a bow?

Like many other things in my life, this small revelation just didn't seem fair.

"Peeta," I whispered, my fingers running up and down his arm. "Don't go to sleep."

I felt him jerk slightly under my touch as I pulled him once again from sleep.

We'd agreed, if somewhat unspoken, that our last night together in 12 would not be spend in the deep oblivion of sleep. Lying there, holding him, I couldn't help but remember a night, not all that long ago where we'd laid together, wrapped in each other's arms; me full of fear and worries, him at the door of death.

"_Don't go to sleep."_ I'd told him then too, paralyzed with the potential fear of losing him.

At least this time the life blood wasn't flowing out of him.

"Sorry," Peeta murmured, shifting in my arms. "You're just so warm, you're putting me right to sleep."

I could hear the smile in his voice, and I couldn't help but smile as well, settling closer beside him, my head on his chest. My eyes were heavy, and the steady feel of the rise and fall of Peeta's chest lulled me into stillness, but I wouldn't go to sleep.

"How long Peeta," I said. "How long before you'll be back."

Peeta sighed.

"I don't know, maybe a month or two; not too long though."

I bit my lip, even a day was too long.

"I want to be with you." I said.

Peeta said nothing at first, wrapping an arm around me.

"You will, it won't be long Katniss, if the appeal doesn't work, Dr. Aurelius will make it happen – he knows that I only ever got better when I was with you."

Silence stretched between us, filling the room with a pleasant stillness. As the minutes passed I could feel Peeta drifting off again, so I spoke up.

"Tell me about your brothers Peeta."

Unlike myself, the mention of his family rarely brought Peeta pain – only the mentions of his mother. Memories of his father, and his brothers however only left him smiling, and sometimes with a dull ache and a longing.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I fell in the well?"

I shook my head, settling against him as he spoke.

"Rye was always getting me into trouble; he always had some mischief up his sleeve. I remember one day, when I was about six and Rye was eight, Dad was busy with Flax in the bakery and Mom wanted us out of the house. She sent us away and Rye thought it would be a great idea to go exploring."

"I thought it was a pretty good idea too, and I followed Rye through Town to this old well behind the butcher's shop. There were some old dusty board over it and when I went to get a closer look, well, I fell through."

"But you can't swim?" I said then, puzzled.

"Yeah, well lucky for me there wasn't much water in that well – just enough to soak me through and cushion my fall. Anyway, Rye panicked and kept yelling and wailing that I was going to die. This, obviously, did nothing to comfort me in my peril and I started bawl – I mean, I got really upset."

I couldn't help but chuckle a little, picturing Peeta, soaking wet and six years old, crying at the bottom of a well.

"Dad must have sent Flax after us, because after about an hour of listening to Rye panic and having him throw branches down to me – in a lame attempt to save me – Flax, big, eleven year old, omniscient Flax came crashing through the bushes to my rescue. He sent Rye for my Dad, and was actually able to calm me down enough so that I stopped crying."

"I bet Rye was in trouble…" I said airily as Peeta finished.

"He was, by the time Dad had fished me out of that well, a small crowd had gathered to help and Rye had gotten ahold of himself enough to realize exploring an old well was probably not the best of ideas. I remember people cheered as my dad pulled me out, but as soon as I was safe my dad really let Rye have it."

Peeta laughed, and I could almost hear the nostalgia in his voice. I wondered about his brothers then, wondering what I would've thought of them. All I knew was what Peeta told me. They didn't sound half bad, and I was sure I would've liked them.

The clock ticked on and I felt Peeta's fingers in my hair, brushing through my tangled locks as his breathing settled once again, deep and even.

Not even all of my many fears could ruin that moment.

"Katniss?" Peeta whispered tenderly.

"Hmmm?" I sighed back, the feel of his warm breath on my face.

"Will you marry me?"

My eyes shot open then, my heart revving, pounding in my chest.

"We won't do it right away," he began again. "We'll wait until we're back together in 12, when all of this is over – we'll have our toasting, well celebrate, it'll be small, it can be just the two of us…"

His words trailed off then as he paused, his arms tightening around me.

"I don't want to wait anymore, no more doubts. I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours."

I felt my throat clench with emotion as he finished, my mind spinning with the idea of becoming his wife, of being forever Katniss Mellark.

"Peeta," I said, trying my best to keep my voice steady, and unwavering. "I've always been yours."

Craning my neck to look up at him, I saw the faintest smile grace his face in the dim light around us.

"Does that mean yes?" He said, his mile growing.

I nodded.

"Yes."

The baby smile was gone, replaced by one of the widest grins I'd ever seen, I knew my face must only match his, we were both laughing.

Our laughter was sporadic at best, interrupted every few moments as Peeta's lips captured mine. He kissed my eyelids, my nose, my chin. Slowly, tenderly making his way back to my lips.

Since our return to 12 I'd forgotten the stiffness and the discomfort of all of our many staged kisses; they were just the briefest memory in my mind, and all I knew now was that whatever we had, it was real.

That feeling.

I'd gotten that feeling back from our kiss on the Beach of the arena, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. The fire grew inside of me, the heat rising in my chest, tamed by the cool calmness of Peeta's gentle spirit.

It was exactly what I needed.

What I wanted.

* * *

><p><strong>Fluffy bliss. This won't last too long, but I had alot of fun writing this chapter. I want to thank all of you who have reviewed: RosesAndRevolutions, JRDurham, Starzinmieyez, hotpielookedlikehotpie, Antha32, LoganLover19, lereveetlamour, LivingReminder, and Zias. You guys have been so great! Hope you continue to enjoy the story!<strong>

**Shoutout to all of those who (like me) are going to see the midnight premire! **


	6. Ensconce

The lump in my throat made it hard to breathe.

Peeta was gone; gone to the Capitol, and I was alone, waiting for hope.

Paylor hadn't called.

Not the night before, not that morning. I was beginning to wonder if she would. I couldn't blame her if she didn't, she owed me no kindness.

Haymitch kept trying to tell me that she'd call eventually, but at the time I hadn't really listened. I'd been too busy catching my last glimpses of Peeta before he vanished from sight, hidden from view by the Capitol doctors as they escorted him into the hovercraft.

He was gone in an instant.

I was exhausted, and later, Haymitch took me back to my victor's home.

Walking through those doors alone ripped me apart, and I headed right up to bed, intending to take some sleeping pills and lose myself in oblivious slumber. Haymitch left me to myself, mentioning something about his geese and Cass Carter before walking down the stairs and locking the door on his way out.

I wished I could've thought of some way to tell him that as much as I was hurting, as painful as it was, I didn't want to be left alone. If anything happened to Peeta, if by some nightmare he died, that's all I'd ever be.

Alone.

So many thoughts were flying through my head, I felt sick, almost dizzy.

Peeta had been doing so well, he'd been better. Somehow it didn't add up, and even the doctors had been puzzled by his sudden relapse.

It just didn't make sense.

Why now, what could possibly have changed?

Collapsing across my unmade bed I kicked off my shoes, crawling under the cold sheets and pulling them over my head. It was a safe place; I felt like I was five again, huddling under the covers where no one could hurt me and everything would always turn out to be just a dream.

Why couldn't it all be just a dream?

Tossing back the blankets, I reached across the bed to my nightstand, grabbing desperately at a bottle of pills, longing to be numb. Downing a few of the brightly colored capsules I lay back, burrowing once again into my bed, closing my eyes and waiting for sleep to come.

It didn't.

Try as I might, my mind was racing too fast for sleep, and even my exhaustion and my sleepless nights at the hospital did nothing to help me drift off. After almost an hour of tossing and turning I grabbed the pills again and downed two more, dry swallowing and waiting for them to take effect.

They finally did, but sleep brought me no comfort.

Without Peeta lying warm against my side the nightmares plagued me. Images of brilliantly bright flames and deep graves painted my sleep. I felt like I'd only been sleeping for a moment when I woke, paralyzed by a haunting nightmare that I could hardly remember.

Outside my window the world was dark, and although I'd slept for hours, I couldn't shake the taunting pounding in my head or the never ending fatigue in my bones. I sat up slowly, running my hands through my matted hair and tossing aside the covers as I stood up, stretching.

I realized then that the pounding I heard wasn't coming from inside my head, but from the front door.

I wondered who it could be; Greasy Sae never came at this hour and Haymitch, with his manners he would never bother to knock even if he didn't have his own key.

Leaving my robe and slippers on the chair beside my bed, I padded down the stairs, the cold floor pricking at the uncovered skin on the soles of my feet. Glancing at a small wall mirror as I passed it I caught a brief glimpse of my face, pale and ghost like; my hair a tangled mess and my eyes dark and sunken. My frail looking and broken reflection reminded me of a morphling and I pulled self-consciously at my hair, smoothing it down as I walked towards the front room.

Unbolting the door I pulled it open slowly; although it was well into spring, the chill of the night air made me catch my breath and I took a step back.

Peering into the night I saw Cass Carter standing on the stoop, his worn brown cap in his hands.

He couldn't have been more than fifty, but his hair and his mustache were almost pure white, and his skin was weary with time. I remembered he'd lost his wife and five children in the bombing of 12, and I couldn't help but wonder for the briefest second why he'd come back after all he'd lost. Surely there was a need of carpenters in other districts.

None of that mattered however, and I found myself hugging my arms around my waist as the carpenter's pale blue eyes stared back at me.

"I'm sorry Ms. Everdeen," he began sheepishly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

I'd long ago given up on my appearance, but still, I blushed slightly, wondering if perhaps there were pillow marks on my face, and brushed at my cheek with my hand

"Oh no Mr. Carter, believe me, you've done me a favor." I paused for a moment before continuing with the next obvious inquiry.

"What is it that brings you by Mr. Carter?"

The man quickly recovered himself.

"I've just come from your Meadow house, I was covering everything over to make sure nothings ruined – I found this," he said, holding out a long wooden box. "It's his; I didn't think you'd want it getting rained on or anything."

Mr. Carter looked down at the ground, still holding the box. I recognized it then to be Peeta's sketch box, the one he usually took with him everywhere; I wondered how he'd forgotten it at the house site. Taking the box from him, I nodded.

"Thank you, Peeta will be glad to have this back; I'll make sure it gets to him."

He looked up then, his eyes darting nervously.

"How is the boy Miss? Is he doing better?"

I nodded again, even though I wasn't sure myself.

"He's better I think, he'll be home before we know it."

Cass nodded, and I saw a flicker in his eyes that I couldn't quite place. Pity maybe? I wasn't sure.

"Well," said Mr. Carter. "I'll leave you to your own Ma'am, goodnight."

"Goodnight Mr. Carter." I said, shifting the box in my arms as I closed the door once more, bolting shut again.

Once all was still again I sighed deeply, shuffling into the dark kitchen, flipping on a light. I was suddenly hungry and I glanced at the clock, it was nine o'clock, but somehow it seemed later.

Padding over to the pantry I pulled out a stale loaf of almond rum bread, cutting myself a thick slice and slabbing it with a generous portion of gooseberry preserves. Taking a large bite I walked from the table to the counter and brewed myself I cup of fresh coffee, realizing it was still full from the morning of Peeta's relapse.

I'd barely settled down with my steaming cup before the telephone rang; the noise sharp and piercing in the silence.

I thought about not answering, ignoring it and finishing my late night meal in peace.

No such luck; just when I thought I the caller had given up, the phone rang again, just as blaring as ever and I stormed over to the wall, picking up the phone.

"What?" I hissed into the mouthpiece. "What could possibly be so urgent this late."

"Katniss?" The voice was surprised, and it was a voice I knew.

I almost felt my heart stop as I clutched the phone tighter, my knuckles turning white.

"President Paylor?"

"Yes, Katniss, I'm calling about your appeal." Her voice was tight and clipped.

"Yes?" I said, straining to hear every word.

"I've decided to temporarily revoke your sentence, you'll be allowed in the Capitol for a period of six months, that way you can be with Peeta during his treatment."

I was elated, but even so, the edge in her voice concerned me. I wasn't sure if it was true.

"Are you serious?" I said, trying to keep a reign on the volume of my voice. "But Haymitch just sent the appeal yesterday morning?"

"Yes Katniss, I am." The president paused, and I could almost hear the tension in her silence. "I'd like it however, if you kept this to yourself – I don't want anyone to know you'll be in the Capitol – not yet."

More suspicious than ever, I bit back my questions.

"Haymitch needs to know." I said.

"Yes, yes of course, he should know – but no one else Katniss – do you understand?"

I nodded, before realizing she couldn't see me.

"Yes, I understand."

"Good," said Paylor. "I want you ready by Friday evening, I've sent a car to get you, but be cautious, no one can see you."

"I understand." I said. "I'll be ready."

"Good."

And then the line went dead.

* * *

><p><strong>I've been awful at updating the past few weeks, so busy. : I'll try and be more consistant. _Please review and tell me what you think!_**

**So how did everyone like the movie? I'm still not quiet sure, I'll have to see it again, but I'd love to hear what you think!**


	7. Covert

"I don't like it."

There was no question in Haymitch's voice, no benefit of the doubt, just cold and calculating suspicion. If it was anything else, anything at all, I might have understood, but this was Peeta we were talking about, and I needed to get back to him.

"Haymitch," I began, thinking through possible angels to get him to agree with me. "Paylor _herself_ told me it was alright, she told me to be ready."

Haymitch remained stone faced, shaking his head, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrow.

"It doesn't sound right to me, something's up – you can't deny that."

I shrugged dismissively, trying not to roll my eyes.

"Haymitch, this may be my only chance at getting into the Capitol, I've got to take it – we can trust Paylor can't we?"

Haymitch said nothing, and his silence was setting me on edge.

"Can't we?" I repeated again, this time louder and more urgently.

Haymitch frowned, his arms crossed over his chest, his face was worn and his eyes showed the signs of a sleepless night.

"I'd like to say yes sweetheart, but you never can tell these days."

It was my turn to be silent.

I remember thinking in the months after the rebellion had ended that things would be easy again; less complicated. That I'd move on, get back into a routine and settle back into the simple life.

I'd been wrong.

Maybe life would never be simple again.

I leaned heavily against the wall behind me, slumping down to the floor, my legs splayed out in front of me.

Who could I trust? The war was over, weren't we all supposed to be allies?

"What do I do Haymitch?" I questioned, looking over at my mentor, taking in his disheveled appearance.

Haymitch shrugged, pulling his flask from his vest pocket and taking a swig, his quest for abstinence long forgotten.

"What do you want?" He asked incredulously. "Do you _want _me to tell you what to do?"

My silence answered his question.

"I didn't think so." he sputtered, taking another swig.

The silence between us was eerily thick.

"Do what you want, but don't expect me to save you hide if things go sour – you're on your own now sweetheart."

He got up then, walking towards the door as he stashed his flask, grabbing his goose staff at the door where I'd told him to leave it. Swinging open the door, he turned back, looking regretful for his previous words.

"I'll stand by you, Mockingjay, whatever you decide, but know what you might be getting yourself into."

I stared him down from where I sat; I wasn't going to back down.

"I've made my decision Haymitch – I'm going."

He nodded curtly, swinging the door open wider as he stepped out the door.

"Well then, I guess we're heading to the Capitol."

* * *

><p>The night sky was as dark as pitch, and the streets were shadowy and soundless as Haymitch and I crept silently to 12's boarder.<p>

I carried with me a simple burlap knapsack, tied tightly with a string. In it was just a few clean shirts, some personal things and Peeta's art box. Haymicth carried nothing, just his flask and a cheap pistol he'd smuggled into 12 on his return – for self-defense he said.

We stopped under a large old oak tree along the side of the road, settling ourselves against it to wait.

Anxiety and anticipation welled up in my gut, making the contents of my stomach swirl with nervousness. I wondered how long we'd have to wait, and I couldn't help but feel a nagging sense un unease at Haymitch's warning days before.

What was I getting myself into, and why all the secrecy?

I didn't have much time to ponder all the questions spinning through my head. Just minutes after we'd stopped a small, black hover car turned the corner, stopping alongside the tree.

No one got out, no one inside said a word, but before either Haymitch or I could ask questions the back door popped open, silently beckoning us in.

I hesitated, suddenly unsure, but Haymitch's steady hand at my back lead me forward, and before I could think I was sitting tensely in a plush leather seat in the car's rear. We only just closed the door when the car sped away, soundlessly zipping through the darkness.

I'd only been inside a hover car a few times in my life, but I was always amazed by the soundlessness of the vehicle – not churning like a train or roaring like a hovercraft – it was by far the stealthiest form of transportation, although not the fastest.

Haymitch quickly made himself right at home, slouching in his seat and putting his feet up on the seat in front of him. The driver said nothing, but I could tell by the way Haymitch eyed the man that I wasn't supposed to talk to him.

I was nervous, and I wanted so badly to ask questions and to put my mind at ease, but I knew I shouldn't.

Instead I turned my gaze to the darkly tinted windows, looking out at the trees as they whipped past. The moon above was full and I could see almost every branch in detail, the shadows within the forest were dark and reminded me eerily of the forest in my first arena.

The scenery changed after a while; we were no longer cruising through a wood path, but speeding just above the ground over a downward sloping field.

It was strange, I'd never seen the country side of Panem in such a way before, so close as we traveled. Before I'd always been in a train, going faster than I could think or in a hovercraft, high above the trees. I'd never realized before just how big Panem really was, or how vastly desolate.

Hours passed, but I didn't sleep, and neither did Haymitch. He would task drinks from his flask when he thought I wasn't aware and I would stare out the window or pluck idly at a loose string unraveling from the burlap knapsack in my lap.

No one talked.

The night wore on and it became harder and harder to keep my eyes open. Fatigue was tugging at me, pulling me down. I looked over at Haymitch, his face haggard with exhaustion, he was staring ahead, his eyes fixed on our driver. He was fighting sleep too.

"Sir?" I said then, startling both Haymitch and the driver as I interrupted the silence.

"Sir, you are going to take us to the Capitol hospital right, to Peeta?"

The driver said nothing, and Haymitch grabbed my arm, squeezing it tightly as he silently warned me to be quiet, and not to ask questions.

I wouldn't listen.

"Please," I said. "Where are you taking us?"

I saw the driver's eyes flick back at me in the rear view mirror before turning back to the path in front of him.

He never replied.

I looked over at Haymitch from where I sat, puzzled and more skeptical than ever. His eyes met mine and he shook his head ever so slightly. I wasn't sure what he meant.

The three of us spent the rest of the six hour drive in silence, and I watched sluggishly as the sun began to rise over the horizon and the rays danced through the trees as we passed them. The silence, the speed and the scenery whipping past me lulled me into an uneasy sleep, my head against the tinted window as I dozed.

It felt like I'd only been asleep a moment when the hover car came to a slow stop and my head dipped limply forward, startling me awake.

It was still early morning and as far as I could tell we were in a covered garage of some sort. The door on my side popped open suddenly and I had to grab Haymitch's arm to keep from falling out of the car.

The moment we'd stepped out of the door it closed again and the car disappeared up a ramp and out of sight.

I felt Haymitch tense beside me, and felt him grab my elbow, pulling me closer to his side as we both scanned the empty, dungy space around us.

From a far wall, an elevator door opened suddenly and out walked two tall men dressed like peacekeepers, but in black. They walked directly towards us.

"Katniss Everdeen?" The first one said, nodding in my direction.

"Yes," I said slowly. "I'm Katniss Everdeen."

"And you friend?" The other man said gruffly, motioning to Haymitch.

"My mentor," I replied. "Haymitch Abernathy."

The two men looked at each other without saying a word before turning back to us.

"Come with us please."

I could feel my hands trembling as I moved to follow them, Haymitch right behind me every step of the way. Stepping into the large and spacious white elevator I stood across from the men in black, eying them warily as I'd seen Haymitch eye our driver.

The elevator ride lasted only seconds, and we were suddenly walking through a long hallway, bright in the florescent light from the ceiling. At the end of the hall one of the men opened the door to a room that read 207 and gestured us to walk in. We did, and once inside, the door closed quickly behind us, locking noisily.

I looked over at Haymitch, who readily collapsed in a white plastic chair. He was running his hands over his tired face, rubbing out the lines in his brow.

"What are we supposed to do now?" I asked aloud, not sure to whom exactly I was asking.

From across the room Haymitch shrugged his shoulders.

"How am I supposed to know?" His voice was hoarse with exhaustion and he sounded cranky, and I couldn't blame him. I found myself wondering how long it'd been since he'd slept properly.

I let him be, staring at the room around me.

The walls, just like everything else was stark white, reminding me of the hospital back in District 12. There were no windows and the only furniture was a low wooden table and three matching chairs. I noticed the clock on the wall above the door; it read 8:15 a.m.

I joined Haymitch at the table, listening as the clock ticked away.

Tick tock, tick tock.

Slouching in my seat, I stuck my fingers in my ears, the sound bringing back unwanted memories.

Minutes passed, and finally the door swung open. Finally my biggest question was answered.

Standing in the door, her dark eyes on us, was President Paylor.

Her dark hair was pulled back from her face in a tight bun at the nape of her neck and she smiled slightly as her eyes met mine.

"Katniss," she said, extending her hand. "It's been a while."

I couldn't make myself smile back at her; I had too much on my mind. As usual, I skipped the formalities.

"Why are we?" I asked bluntly.

"You're in the new Justice Building here in the Capitol; we just finished construction last month."

This answer didn't satisfy me and I shifted uncomfortably on my feet.

"But why are we _here_?" I asked more plainly. "Why weren't we brought directly to the hospital?"

From behind me, I heard Haymitch stand up slowly and make his way to my side. He said nothing.

"I needed to talk with you first." Said Paylor, moving past me to take a seat at the table. "Please Katniss, Haymitch, sit down."

I obeyed compliantly, eager to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.

"A lot has happened since your trial, a lot has changed, but not quite the way we hoped it would."

She paused for a moment, gauging our expressions before continuing.

"Since last year the rebuilding and restoration process has been incredibly successful; the Capitol, and districts 1, 3, 4 and 5 have been almost completely restored. New hospitals have opened, and the economy has been slowly recovering. This is what everyone knows, but there have been recent happening that would suggest tension in several districts – happenings that cannot be ignored."

"I don't understand." I interrupted. "What does that have to do with me – with Peeta?"

"I was getting to that," Paylor said, continuing. "There's been talk of a final act of justice among Pamen's citizens, in the districts; they want retribution for the losses they suffered during the war and even before the Rebellion. They want revenge."

I raised my eyebrows, still not quite following.

"It's come to my attention that the people of Panem want a final Games, like the one Coin planned – one with the Capitol's children – to take place next summer."

Haymitch sputtered at my side.

"A final Games?" He erupted. "Have they gone mad – a Games would ruin this country's future!"

Paylor looked confused.

"I've been told both of you both voted in favor of a final Games with Coin?"

Haymitch was furious.

"Well yes, but not because we actually wanted one – we both knew the real reason why Coin suggested those Games in the first place, and it had nothing it do with revenge – it was about her!" Haymitch proclaimed, pointing a finger in my direction.

I sat stunned, still trying to put everything together in my brain. A final Games? Haymitch was right, it was insanity. I'd only ever voted in favor of the Games to keep Coin from suspecting I was an enemy.

Paylor dismissed his comment.

"Whatever the reason behind why you voted the way you did, the word has got out – the people know about what Coin was planning and they want it. They know their Mockingjay voted in favor of the Games. If we don't give them what they want, we could bring this country crashing to a halt – we could destroy everything we've worked for."

I finally spoke up.

"You're not seriously thinking of a final Games are you?" I asked.

Paylor's face was unreadable, and after a moment, she spoke.

"No, never; we can't plant this new country on the roots of the old. It would only bring our end in the long run. But that's where you come in Katniss."

I was more confused than ever.

"Me?" I asked, almost afraid for a reply. "What do you need me for?"

Paylor said nothing at first; looking from Haymitch, then back to me before speaking.

"We need you, the Mockingjay, to convince them otherwise."

* * *

><p><strong>Long break, new chapter. Finally. I hope you all had a good holiday weekend and I also hope you've enjoyed this new piece of the puzzle. What did you think? Review and let me know if you're liking what you're reading or if you have any questions. Actually reviews would be greatly appreciated either way. <strong>


	8. Languish

I didn't know what to say.

What could I say really, I was about to become a piece in yet another game. Not like before, not in the arena or in the rebellion, but a piece just the same. Once again I was going to be a puppet, mouthing the words of others.

It was a role I was used to playing.

One I'd thought I'd never have to play again.

I couldn't speak.

But this didn't matter, because as usual when I was at a loss for words, Haymitch spoke for me. In a way. And he was louder than I'd ever be.

"You mean you want her to parade around doing your work for you – again!" Haymitch bellowed.

Paylor's lips tightened as she sat back in her chair. She'd obviously been expecting such a reaction.

"It won't be like that Haymitch; she'll be doing what needs to be done."

Haymitch rolled his eyes.

"Yeah," he said. "By being a puppet."

I sat still in my chair, watching as Paylor pursed her lips, using much more restraint than her red faced counterpart.

"She won't be a puppet, I can assure you that; but even in light of her trial last year, and her debated, well... mental instability, she's still the one the people look to. She's still the one they love. If she can persuade them in the direction of peace instead of further bloodshed and violence then I for one would be pleased to see her do so."

I felt a knot grow in my stomach at the thought of being paraded in front of thousands again, I knew what would be coming; speeches, interviews, campaigns… It was the last thing I wanted. It was something I'd hoped to leave behind me with the war.

I found my voice then.

"What if I don't want to do it?" I questioned, sounding a little more rebellious than I'd intended.

Both Haymitch and Paylor turned to me, Haymitch still fuming and Paylor still all too calm and collected.

"If you're not willing to cooperate then I'm sorry to say you'll be removed from the Capitol and taken back to District 12."

Standing, Paylor gathered herself up, looking me directly in the eyes.

"You need to make your decision now. You can remain in the Capitol, near Peeta and help calm the districts, or you can leave – it's your choice Katniss. It's not ideal, but it's what is and we need to move towards action. What will it be?"

My chest felt tight, like a large weight was resting on it, and I tried to breath slowly, deeply to calm myself.

I could become a puppet once more and be with Peeta, or I could leave.

The choice was painfully clear.

"I'll do it." I said, my voice flat and emotionless. "I'll be your Mockingjay again."

Paylor smiled, a small, barely noticeable smile, but a smile none the less. Reaching across the table, she took my hand in hers and shook it firmly.

"Good." She said, nodding. "Good."

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Haymitch shaking his head as he joined us to stand. Paylor, now with far few worry lines in her face, headed towards the door, punching in a code as four tall, burly security guards stood just outside the door.

"We'll need to take you to the Press Conference room first, you'll have a few days to adjust to the Capitol before this business begins, but we need to make sure you know what needs to be said first. You'll meet with our communications specialist and – "

"Wait." I interrupted. "There's something else first."

Paylor turned back to me as two guards walked in to accompany us, her eyebrows raised.

"First I need to see Peeta."

* * *

><p>It was that sickly strong antiseptic again.<p>

It made my eyes water and my nose wrinkle; I hadn't missed it.

The walls were shocking bright and stark white just like almost every other hospital I'd ever been in and the strict, military-like perfection was all too familiar to me.

The face in front of me was familiar too, but at the same time, it was like I was looking at a stranger.

It's been four days since I'd last seen him, but Peeta looked nothing like himself.

The boy I'd said goodbye to had been standing, laughing and the color had been returning to his cheeks again. But this boy, this man that lay in front of me was not that same boy. He was pale, and in only a few days his bones had become more prominent in his face, screaming out ill health. His bright blue eyes were cloudy and the hand in mine was cold, lacking its normal warmth. The face that looked back at me was smiling, but I knew Peeta, and I could see right through it.

Peeta was worse.

Closing my fingers tighter around his clammy hand I pulled it to my face, warming them against my cheek.

"Peeta." I whispered, taking in every last inch of him, studying him up and down.

He grinned up at me, and even in his weakened state, I could tell he was genuinely happy to see me.

"Katniss." He said, stroking my fingers with his thumb. "I knew they couldn't keep you away for too long."

I tried to smile back at him, the dark circles under his eyes distracted me, blocking out everything else. Reaching out, I smoothed back the limp hair back from his forehead, once again noticing how cold he felt.

"I missed you." I choked out, trying to keep my voice even but failing miserably.

His eyes searching mine, I could tell Peeta was concerned. I'd always been a terrible liar and he was most certainly not buying my act.

"Katniss," he began, struggling into a sitting position in an attempt to let me know he was fine. "It's alright, I'm getting better – maybe it doesn't look that way, but it's just going to take a little time."

I nodded, climbing up on the bed beside him and pretzeling my legs in front of me and I clutched Peeta's hand. I desperately wanted to believe what he was saying, that it really would just take some time; but the pallor of his skin, and the dark, bruise-like smudges under his eyes screamed otherwise. We'd done what they doctor had suggested; we'd brought him to the Capitol. He was supposed to be getting better, not worse.

From behind us the door flung open, and Haymitch, who'd allowed me to see Peeta first alone, was clearly tired of waiting. Patience never had been his thing.

Turning to watch him as he stormed into the room, I could tell her noticed Peeta weakness just as I had. But unlike myself, he was much better at masking his own emotions. He stopped just beside the long hospital bed and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"How you doing boy?" He asked gruffly, but I could tell he was just as glad to see Peeta as I was.

Peeta smiled, sitting up further in the bed as he did.

"I'm fine," he said amiably. "It really is good to see you both. The last few days have been the longest – and most boring of my entire life."

Haymitch snorted a brief, garbled laugh as he plopped himself down into a chair alongside the bed. He pulled out his silver flask from his inside pocket, but one stern, disapproving look from Peeta had him tucking it back in its place in seconds.

"Aw, c'mon Haymitch," Peeta teased with a small hint of genuine disappointment. "I thought you'd quit that."

Haymitch shrugged, waving a dismissive hand in Peeta's direction.

"Ah, who needs to quit, I was fine before your whole "detox" idea. I don't need some smart nosed kid ordering _me_ around."

Peeta shook his head, suppressing a smile as Haymitch folded his arms across his chest sulkily, leaning back into the stiff plastic chair.

The conversation was brief and surface deep, but even that was enough ease the tension out of my body. I was still worried about Peeta, anxious about Paylor's mission for me and still not ready to tell Peeta. Even so, it was good to be close to him again, right at his side where I knew I belonged and where I was the happiest. It was good to let it all go, even if only for a moment. I'd have only this one, uninterrupted day with him before Paylor's men came to collect me for my briefing.

I knew I'd have to tell Peeta soon, and the longer I kept it from him, the harder it would be. I knew also that he wouldn't like it, he wanted me safe – both physically and emotionally – and I already knew that campaigning against a final games would not be the best place for that.

Peeta grew tired quickly, and my brief comfort from being close to him quickly vanished as I watched him struggle to remain lively for my sake.

Haymitch left before long, not able to stay too long in one place, leaving me alone with Peeta.

"You know," I began. "There's a reason why Paylor allowed me back into the Capitol so soon, and it doesn't have anything to do with you Peeta."

Peeta's eyebrows arched, his face puzzled.

"What?" He asked. "What are you talking about?"

I knew it would be best to just come out and say it plain. So I did.

"There's been talk in the districts, talk about a final Games to end it all – one with the Capitol's children."

Remembrance dawned on him then as he looked at me, his gaze never leaving mine.

"You mean like the one Coin wanted?"

I nodded, continuing.

"Paylor's against it see, she thinks it could destroy the recovery effort… Anyway, she needs help, she needs influential people to speak out against the Games. She thinks we can change the people's minds before they decide to take matters into their own hands – if there's another revolt –"

"So she wants you to speak out against it, publically." Peeta said, it was more of a statement than a question.

I nodded, biting my bottom lip as I gauged his reaction.

"It won't be that bad, just some speeches and some TV interviews… how bad could it be?"

My voice was dull and flat, and I couldn't even persuade myself that it would be fine.

Peeta's reaction was better than I thought it'd be. Instead of being upset or angry with Paylor he just kept stroking my hand, searching my eyes and watching to make sure I was really alright about it.

"They'll have you speaking in the Capitol Square." He said, his voice tender and soft. "You sure you'll be alright?"

I nodded shakily, plastering on a weak smile.

The Square. I hadn't been there since the bombing, since I watched Prim burst into flames.

Could I do it?

All I knew is that I'd have to try.

"You know me." I said. "Have I ever let anything keep me down for too long."

Peeta still didn't look convinced, but he smiled.

"Not for too long." He said.

Pulling me down to his side he kissed me slowly, softly. Another kiss that left me wanting more, but now was not the time.

"You're strong Katniss." He whispered into my ear. "Stronger than anyone I know. I know you'll be okay."

His words had just the right affect, sending warmth spreading through my face and neck. Making me love him even more.

Inching back, I could see the longing, the desire in his face and I found myself wanting that ultimate closeness more than anything.

I'd been living with Peeta back in 12 for five months, but we'd taken it slow, sharing a bed but never quite crossing that line. Closeness was what I'd wanted, just the feel of him by my side, but now I knew I wanted more than that.

"Peeta… just get well soon." I said, smiling a real smile for the first time in days.

Peeta just laughed, saluting weakly with his right hand in response.

"Your wish is my command."

* * *

><p>I left Peeta asleep around midnight, after finally persuading him to rest like he needed.<p>

I was exhausted and all I could think about was finding Haymitch and heading to the rooms Paylor had reserved for us to get some sleep. I wasn't watching where I was going and the next thing I knew I was staggering backwards after colliding with a nurse making late rounds.

Apologies were spewing in both directions and I was on my hands and knees, clumsily attempting to pick up the tray of medications I'd knocked to the floor.

The nurse, a petite navy haired girl with colorless lips and an equally colorless face kept her head down, also trying to retrieve the many bright colored pills on the floor. Holding the tray in my hand I stood, feeling foolish as I shifted uncomfortably, holding out a hand to help her to her feet.

She took my hand, but the second our eyes met she let go, taking a step back, her eyes wide in her moon shaped face. The bewilderment was gone just as soon as it had appeared as she took the tray from me.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice unreadable. "I didn't see you there."

Shaking my head I helped her arrange the pills back in the cups on the tray.

"No, it was my fault, I'm a complete mess right now – I wasn't watching where I was going."

The nurse said nothing, smiling politely.

"I'm Katniss," I said. "And I really am sorry, I'm just a klutz sometimes."

She nodded, and I wasn't sure if she was agreeing that I was a klutz or confessing her own lack of grace.

Maybe it didn't matter.

With the last of the medication in place, the nurse nodded quickly before walking briskly past me, the heels of her white shoes clicking against the floor as she went. I watched her go, and as she turned the corner she nearly collided again with Haymitch as he stumbled around the corner, paying the girl no noticed, and heading straight for me.

"Ah, sweetheart, I've been looking for you!" He called, and I could tell he'd had just a little too much to drink.

Perfect.

"I've been looking all over for you!" He bellowed. "Don't you think it's about time we call it a night?"

I nodded and we left, heading to our rooms in silence.

That night my dreams were full of things I didn't want to see.

Flaxen haired girls bursting into flames, images of Peeta withering away to nothing, and the moonfaced nurse, terrified by the sight of me.

Me.

Katniss.

The girl who would once again, be on fire.

* * *

><p><strong>I appologize. In light of my upcoming graduation, I've been very lax in updating. Sorry to keep you waiting. Let me know if any characters seem a little OC. Anyway, let me know what you think of this new bit, reviews are always greatly appreciated.<strong>


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